


JWP 2020 #31: Worse Places

by methylviolet10b



Category: Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms, Sherlock Holmes (Downey films)
Genre: Hurt/Comfort, Injury, M/M, Prompt Fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-01
Updated: 2020-08-01
Packaged: 2021-03-05 20:40:55
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 368
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25641484
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/methylviolet10b/pseuds/methylviolet10b
Summary: “I suppose we’ve stayed in worse places." Written for JWP #31 over on Watson's Woes.
Relationships: Sherlock Holmes/John Watson
Comments: 10
Kudos: 49
Collections: Watson's Woes JWP Collection: 2020





	JWP 2020 #31: Worse Places

**Author's Note:**

> **Warnings** : Mostly schmoop, although it's the end of July, and I couldn't let Watson escape without just a little more whump. And written in a huge rush. You have been warned.
> 
>  **Prompt** : And To Think That It Happened On Montague Street: Whether it involves Holmes' old rooms or just the general location, include Montague Street somehow in today's work.

“I suppose we’ve stayed in worse places,” I said, doing my best to keep my voice steady. It was not easy. Between the stench and the pain of my injury, I felt distinctly nauseated.

“Not many,” Holmes disagreed, wrapping my arm with bandages from my medical bag. The linen spotted scarlet almost at once. “That fishmonger’s shack on the Thames in August 1883, perhaps.”

“Ugh.” The sound I made was partly disgust at the memory, and partly an attempt to keep Holmes from noticing my wince as he put more pressure on my wound.

Those sharp ears missed little, and the mind behind them less still. He glanced at me, and I read a myriad of emotions in his eyes. His voice, however, remained light. “And Montague Street – although you weren’t with me then, so I suppose it doesn’t count.”

The name was familiar. “That was where you lived before we started sharing rooms at Baker Street, wasn’t it? Was it really so terrible?”

Holmes paused in securing the bandage and bowed his head. “It was. Although I did not realize quite how terrible it was at the time, until further experience taught me how much better things could be.” One of his hands drifted to my shoulder, and he squeezed it lightly. “Among other things, Montague Street lacked a resident doctor. And while I doubt any of the locals have a quarter of your skill, you cannot treat this on your own, and I am a poor substitute for true medical knowledge. As charming as this place is, I really believe we must desert it in favor of seeking out proper treatment.”

Holmes rarely if ever admitted to lack of expertise. That alone told me how upset he was about my wound. I reached up with my good arm and clasped the hand on my shoulder. “I’ll be fine, Old Cock.”

“You will be,” Holmes agreed with a quick smile. “And it shall be my turn to play Mother Hen while you heal. I quite look forward to it. Now shall we leave this place?”

I smiled back while bracing myself for the painful process of regaining my feet. “My dear man, I thought you’d never ask.”

**Author's Note:**

> Originally posted July 31, 2020.


End file.
